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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704819">(i'm dreaming of a) white christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethseok/pseuds/hiraethseok'>hiraethseok</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:/, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam Winchester, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Cock Slut Sam Winchester, Come Marking, Come Slut Sam Winchester, Comeplay, Crack Treated Seriously, Dom Sam Winchester, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Sam Winchester Has A Big Dick, Stanford Student Sam Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, also its april rn, and I wrote a Christmas fic, cant believe i wrote 4k samcest smut, defilement of christmas, he just rly likes come ok, literally impossible amounts of come, ok, they fuck, this is rly dumb lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:47:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethseok/pseuds/hiraethseok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>.</p><p>Not-Sam chuckles low in his throat. “Your Christmas wish was denied by the big man in the north pole, you know that? Can’t imagine what a nasty idea you had that even he couldn’t deliver. Did you know that Santa does, in fact, bring sex toys on Christmas Eve?” </p><p> </p><p>Sam takes a second to absorb that bit about sex toys. And then-- “Wait, Santa? Christmas? What the hell are you on about?”</p><p>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Real Tyson Brady &amp; Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(i'm dreaming of a) white christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>as with most of my fics, this was written in the crack of dawn when i have the least amount of control over my brain and the thoughts it decides to type down</p><p>enjoy..? comments/kudos make my day &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sam’s a little confused when he wakes up and isn’t greeted by the off-white popcorn ceiling of his dorm room. Then, he registers the blood-red tinge of the world around him and his eyes go almost comically wide, sleepiness dissipating like mist in the sunshine. </p><p> </p><p>Before he can decide whether or not to fully panic, he hears someone chuckle off to the side. He whips his head to follow the sound, but instead of calming him down, it just makes him freak the fuck out. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you… me?” he asks, hates how high his voice goes. The guy’s hair is a little longer than his and Sam’s pretty sure his eyes aren’t ever that shade of gold, no matter how often his friends tell him his eye color is impossible to pin down. There’s a different air around him, too; powerful, deadly, ruthless, but he’s smiling almost gently as he stares down at Sam. </p><p> </p><p>“I am,” he says, and his voice is as smooth as butter. “But I am also here to grant you a wish, Samuel Winchester.” Sam blinks. Blinks again. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Not-Sam snorts, bemused, and he finally approaches Sam, slowly and with this heavy, regal pep in his step. Sam watches every move, poised to make a run for it if need be. Not-Sam smirks like he can hear his thoughts -- no way, there’s <em> no way </em> he can -- and then he laughs. </p><p> </p><p>“I am not here to hurt you. In fact,” he grins widely, displaying the sharpest canines Sam thinks he’s ever seen, “I’m here to fulfill your greatest desire.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what’s that?” Acting like a smartass to himself is breaking walls Sam’s not sure even exist. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what this <em> greatest desire </em> could be, but he goes silent and lets Not-Sam enlighten him. </p><p> </p><p>Not-Sam chuckles low in his throat. “Your Christmas wish was denied by the big man in the north pole, you know that? Can’t imagine what a nasty idea you had that even he couldn’t deliver. Did you know that Santa does, in fact, bring sex toys on Christmas Eve?” </p><p> </p><p>Sam takes a second to absorb that bit about sex toys. And then-- “Wait, Santa? Christmas? What the hell are you on about?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your Christmas present, Samuel.” Not-Sam rolls his eyes and, wow, Sam totally gets why Dean gets pissed at him every time he does that. “Mr. Claus has decided, with his supreme knowledge and foresight, that I would be better suited to deliver this gift to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“And who exactly <em> are </em> you?” Not-Sam looks a little too excited to be offended by the question. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m the king of hell.” Sam’s eyes go wide. Okay, this would be a great time to leave. Except for the fact that he can’t move a single fucking muscle. Not-Sam’s eyes glow bright, eyes narrowed into snake-like slits. </p><p> </p><p>Shit. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’ll bite,” Sam says hurriedly. “What’s my gift?”</p><p> </p><p>Not-Sam takes his time approaching him, and Sam’s heart is hammering wildly in his chest by the time he’s standing in front of him, lip curled up into a sneer. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me explain it to you, dear Samuel.” His protest of <em> it’s Sam </em> dies in his throat when Not-Sam leans his head close to breathe hot against his ear. Sam shivers, despite himself. </p><p> </p><p>“You cozied up in your normal life with your normal friends and your normal school, but you can’t hide anything from us higher ups. I was shocked when I heard it, I won’t lie, but then again, sluts like you aren’t ever satisfied, are they?” </p><p> </p><p>Sam gapes, feels his cheeks burn hot. “W-what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t play dumb with me, Winchester,” Not-Sam hisses. “You wished for a white Christmas, but snow isn’t what you want. You want <em> cum</em>, enough to paint your entire body white, enough to drown you whole-- am I wrong so far?”</p><p> </p><p>The <em> yes </em> is itching to be spoken, but he pauses before he can say it and that hesitance seals his fate. Not-Sam’s eyes glitter and Sam still can’t move. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m right,” he crows. “I’m fucking right, aren’t I? <em> Whore</em>.” Sam doesn’t see the slap coming, and his neck whips so quick to the side that he worries it might snap. Not-Sam grabs him by the chin and twists his head to look at him again. </p><p> </p><p>“Tell me,” he says, suddenly in a whisper. “Tell me I’m right.” And Sam could say no, he really could. He could just say no and it would all be over with and he could wake up and pronounce this whole thing a whacked out hangover dream, but.</p><p> </p><p>But. </p><p> </p><p>Sam flushes dark when he mumbles out a quiet, defeated, “<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Not-Sam grins, smug with the victory of it, and Sam feels the hold on his limbs let up a little, but it’s not nearly enough to give him the chance to run. Not-Sam’s smart, and that makes Sam squirm. </p><p> </p><p>“Strip,” Not-Sam says, stepping back so he can watch. Sam stands on shaky legs and grabs the hem of his shirt, flipping it up and over his head. He tosses it onto the floor, going for his jeans straight after. His limbs lock up again, and he glances up to see Not-Sam scowl. </p><p> </p><p>“Slow down, Winchester. I want you to give me a show.” Sam’s no stranger to stripping, but it feels a little weirder around someone who’s supposed to be, well, <em> him</em>. But Not-Sam’s eyes are blazing dangerously, so he sucks it up and slows down. </p><p> </p><p>His limbs are his own by the time he wiggles his boxers down his hips, throwing them near his jeans, and when he looks at Not-Sam, he’s smiling. </p><p> </p><p>“Good boy,” he praises. “C’mere.” Sam creeps closer. He feels small, for some reason, even though he’s just as tall as Not-Sam, just as broad. He lets the feeling cushion him, lets it drag him into compliance, submission. </p><p> </p><p>“Kneel,” he’s told, and he does, dropping down like it’s a reflex. Not-Sam’s wearing a robe, one that buttons closed, but with a snap of his fingers, it’s completely gone, leaving him bare in front of Sam. </p><p> </p><p>He’s already hard and -- shit -- fucking <em> hung</em>. Sam just stares for a second, wonders how the fuck that’s gonna fit <em> anywhere</em>, and then Not-Sam laughs low in his throat, and it sounds like the fucker’s <em> amused</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Suck me off,” he orders. “Gonna paint that pretty face of yours, first.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam really should be thinking more critically about this. <em> Should </em> being the operative phrase because the only thing Sam can think about now is how much he needs to have that thing in his mouth, down his throat, up his ass. He blinks hard, tries to shake the images loose from his head, but Not-Sam clicks his tongue and he’s dragged back to the present. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir,” Sam answers in a rush, and he opens his mouth to swallow him down. </p><p> </p><p>He’s bigger than he looks, somehow, and Sam’s eyes water around the girth of it, but he just grabs his hips and sinks down until the head bumps the back of his throat. Not-Sam sighs and one of his hands tangle up in his hair. </p><p> </p><p>“You take it like a slut,” he says. “‘S it feel good?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Yes</em>, Sam thinks wildly. Forgets that Not-Sam can hear him. </p><p> </p><p>He slurps his way back up, licking across the slit and swallowing down the precum that drips out. Not-Sam groans, grabbing the back of Sam’s head and pistoning his hips in so deep he gags.</p><p> </p><p>“Just like that,” Not-Sam mutters, eyes flashing, and he waits until Sam calms down before he does it again. </p><p> </p><p>Sam lets his throat go slack and just shuts his eyes as Not-Sam fucks his mouth, deep and fast and rough, but it’s <em> perfect</em>, hits all his buttons so quick he doesn’t even realize he’s hard until Not-Sam yanks his cock free, letting Sam gasp for much-needed air. </p><p> </p><p>“You ready?” Not-Sam asks, pointless because he doesn’t wait for a response, just pumps his cock furiously over Sam’s face, grunting as he finally spills.</p><p> </p><p>It’s hotter and thicker than Sam’s used to, but he welcomes it with a whimper, eyes slipping shut. It takes forever for it to end, it seems, and Sam blinks his eyes open nearly a minute later with his face coated in cum. Not-Sam grins. </p><p> </p><p>“Perfect,” he says, and then he grabs Sam by the arms and pushes him towards the bed. Sam stumbles, bends over at the waist, and Not-Sam holds him down like that, shoving his chest to the bed. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll paint this pretty ass next. Maybe your back, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you just came!” Not-Sam chuckles a little darkly and Sam gasps, tensing as something rubs across his ass, hot and hard. </p><p> </p><p>“Part of the gig, Samuel,” he croons. “You wonder why Santa told me to take this wish.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam just groans and rests his cheek against the bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t talk about Santa,” he mutters. “It’s killing the mood.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam whimpers high in his throat when Not-Sam’s cock slides between his asscheeks and across his hole. </p><p> </p><p>“I think the mood’s doing just fine,” Not-Sam quips. He snaps his fingers and slides his dick out, replacing it with a slicked-up thumb. Sam snorts. </p><p> </p><p>“Hell gives you free lube, too?” </p><p> </p><p>“Nah,” Not-Sam says. “Just added it to my contract this year.” Sam’s not sure whether it’s a joke or not. Not-Sam sidesteps it entirely, just rubs little circles against his hole, dipping in every once in a while just to pull back and repeat the same motion. Sam wriggles impatiently. </p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t my first time, y’know,” he says pointedly. “You can go a little faster.” Not-Sam glances over at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Sam huffs, moans a little when Not-Sam’s thumb sinks into his ass, knuckle-deep. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, really. You think a virgin would ask for cum for Christmas?” Sam lets the sentiment hang in the air for a little bit. “Actually, don’t answer that,” he adds. </p><p> </p><p>Not-Sam scoffs and pulls his thumb out, feeds two fingers back in. It’s a bit of a stretch, but Sam adjusts quickly. It’s three that gets him a little winded, gets Not-Sam to actually stop and let him breathe. Once three is okay, four isn’t as bad. Four makes him gape a little when Not-Sam pulls his fingers free, hole winking shut and blinking open, aching to be filled. </p><p> </p><p>Sam groans and rolls his hips when Not-Sam fucks four in and out slow, spreading his fingers to stretch him out. It’s almost too much when he wiggles his thumb in, but Sam just breathes out and shuts his eyes, shuddering when his knuckles slip past his rim. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’re definitely not a virgin,” Not-Sam muses. Sam’s a little thrown by it, but then Not-Sam pulls his fist free and thumbs over his hole, and Sam’s <em> tired </em> of waiting. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck me!” Sam hisses, nudging his hips back into Not-Sam’s hands. He laughs lowly, but he slicks up his cock and thumbs it into Sam’s hole, feeding it in inch by painstaking inch. </p><p> </p><p>Sam’s not new to bottoming. Hell, he’s pretty much exclusively bottomed since coming to Stanford, and he’s taken some big dicks, but Not-Sam’s is a completely different story. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not just huge, he’s <em> thick</em>, stretching him wide open every time he sinks in, nudging that sweet spot up inside him. Sam’s gaping, soundless as Not-Sam pulls almost completely out and slams back in, hips slapping against his ass. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” he mutters. “Feel that? You’re just pulling me right in. Can’t get enough of it, can you? You need a cock up your ass that bad?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Sam gasps, arching his back, spreading his legs just a little more. “Yes, <em> yes</em>, need it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cockslut,” Not-Sam whispers, borderline affectionate. He bends over him to bite at his shoulder, fucking his hips in and out hard enough that Sam’s sure there are gonna be bruises. It sends a hot wave of arousal down his spine to pool in his belly. </p><p> </p><p>Not-Sam seems to pick up on it, somehow. Sam’s no longer questioning it, especially when it makes him grab both of Sam’s wrists and hold them across his back, trapping him between the mattress and Not-Sam’s relentless thrusting. </p><p> </p><p>“Cum on my cock or not at all,” he mutters, and Sam can’t decide if he wants to get down on one knee or two. </p><p> </p><p>Sam’s close when Not-Sam pulls out fast, jerking off over his back, and then he feels the thick warmth hit his spine, his fingers, his ass, all the way up to his shoulders, and it should feel gross but Sam’s kind of past the point of rationalizing how insane this is. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Not-Sam sighs, wringing himself dry, but he slots himself back into Sam’s ass and fucks into him just as hard as before, still rock hard. Turns out the king of Hell can be a gentleman in bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Cum for me, Samuel,” he coaxes, and all it takes is a couple thrusts against his prostate to get him to cry out, shooting ropes of cum all over his belly. </p><p> </p><p>When he pulls out this time, he’s a lot gentler. Sam’s still heaving and trying to come down from it, but he’s pliant when Not-Sam flips him over onto his back, ruining the sheets completely. Sam doesn’t think he gives a shit. He can probably clean it up in a literal snap, anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“So?” Sam pants. Not-Sam quirks a brow. </p><p> </p><p>“So?” he echoes. “<em>So</em>, I’m still not technically done delivering your gift.” Sam’s eyes go wide. He shifts, feels the cum on his back pull uncomfortably against his skin, and he laughs a little nervously. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean? It feels pretty, uh, fulfilled to me.” Not-Sam grins and leans close to hover over his face, balancing on his forearms. His gaze dips down to stare at his chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Wanna cum all over these pretty tits,” he breathes, eyes shining. “Can I?” </p><p> </p><p>“Ask me like that and I’ll say yes to anything,” Sam mutters, but he shuffles down as Not-Sam shuffles up, straddling Sam’s chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Push them together,” he demands, and Sam cups a pec in each hand and presses them inward, lacing his fingers up top to form a make-shift cocksleeve. He glances up at Not-Sam, all shy smiles and flushed cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>“Is this okay?” Not-Sam swears and pumps his dick twice. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s perfect, Samuel.” And then he fits his dick in through the bottom, pushing through the hole until the head peeks out at the top. If he strains his neck, Sam can stick his tongue out to lick the slit, and Not-Sam indulges him for a few seconds. Then, he runs a hand through Sam’s hair to force his head back against the bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me do the work, yeah?” he says, and then more quietly, “Look at you. So fucking pretty like this.” He rolls his hips, fucks Sam’s tits, and it definitely shouldn’t be as hot as it is. His eyebrows furrow and he knows it’s impossible, but sure enough, Sam feels himself get hard again. </p><p> </p><p>Not-Sam feels it, smirks a little. “This really does it for you, huh? You’re insatiable, Winchester.” He reaches back and, without breaking stride, starts jerking Sam off again, quick and dirty. </p><p> </p><p>“Gonna cum all over yourself?” he goads, going starry-eyed when Sam kicks his hips up, fucking into the fist Not-Sam’s created for him. “Yeah, just like that, <em>good</em> <em>boy</em>,” and Sam whines and cums so hard his vision goes spotty. </p><p> </p><p>His grip on his pecs loosen, and Not-Sam doesn’t reprimand him for it, just pushes back his bangs and smiles down all sweetly at him. </p><p> </p><p>“How the hell did I do that?” Sam asks, coughing slightly. Not-Sam’s smile corkscrews into unsettling, but Sam’s still coming back from the best orgasm he’s had in his entire life, so he figures Not-Sam’s justified to a little self-satisfaction. </p><p> </p><p>“My Hell, my rules,” he sing-songs. “Granted, I haven’t seen a human survive that for a few millennia at least. You have my respect, Samuel.” Sam just blinks and lets it slide. What the hell, right?</p><p> </p><p>“Now,” Not-Sam says, tapping Sam’s hands. “You know what to do, yeah?” Sam brings his hands back, cups his pecs again and, yeah, Not-Sam slides back in like he never left. </p><p> </p><p>Every inch of his chest is painted white before Not-Sam sighs and eases off, finally content. Sam’s not much better off, slumping back into the messy sheets. </p><p> </p><p>“How’d I do?” Sam snorts, tosses an arm over his eyes. He’s covered in cum -- the <em> king of Hell’s </em> cum, isn’t that fucking insane -- and he’s laughing, loud like he can’t help it. </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked like this before,” he muses. “I suppose you pass.” Not-Sam sighs and settles beside him, grimacing when he lays on a wet spot. He snaps and it’s gone, but Sam’s not clean in the slightest. He grins, chest going a little warm. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, has anyone ever said Merry Christmas to you?” Not-Sam drifts into his own thoughts, and Sam worries for a moment that he didn’t hear him. </p><p> </p><p>“Once,” he says eventually, wistfully. “A long, long time ago. But things happen and things change, for a myriad of different reasons.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam really wants to put a hand on his shoulder, but. Yeah. Not-Sam’s lips quirk up. Damn telepathy. </p><p> </p><p>“I should go back,” Sam says suddenly, scrambling up. “Does time pass differently down here?” Not-Sam’s eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head. </p><p> </p><p>“When you return, there won’t be any lapse in time. I can let you remember your time here if you wish.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Sam answers immediately, and then flushes. Not-Sam’s smile goes sly, but Sam leaps out of bed and searches out his clothes. Not-Sam watches him flounder from the bed, clearly amused, and he waits for a good few minutes before he snaps his fingers and Sam’s all cleaned up and dressed. Sam sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” he says, grudgingly. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodbye, Samuel Winchester,” Not-Sam says, and Sam swears he sees the asshole <em> wink </em> at him before darkness slams into him and he blacks out. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>--</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Sam? Sam! Hey, wake up, man!” </p><p> </p><p>Sam groans as he picks his head up, and he tries to blink his eyes open, but he screws them shut and plants his head right back down, hiding from the too-bright lights surrounding him. Brady laughs at him, the bastard, but he curls an arm around his shoulders and helps him out of bed. </p><p> </p><p>Sam’s body aches like he’s gotten hit by a truck, and it takes a little while for his memory to come rushing back and for his cheeks to flush pink. </p><p> </p><p>“You have this weird package sitting outside, dude,” Brady rambles on, unaware of Sam’s internal struggle. “It’s addressed to you but it doesn’t have a return address. Might be a Christmas present from someone on campus. A secret admirer?” Sam rolls his eyes and tunes him out. He’s in year two and never takes his nose out of his textbook except to eat, sleep, and fuck. Sam’s not really sure how he’s relationship material of any kind, but it’s sweet of Brady to consider it. </p><p> </p><p>“Here.” Brady steps away from him to retrieve the box, a little beat up around the corners. Sam’s curiosity piques when he shakes it and it doesn’t make a sound. </p><p> </p><p>“Open it, doofus.” Sam huffs and flips him off. He grabs his penknife from his back pocket, ripping through the clear tape and flipping the lids open. The first layer is just bubble wrap; miles of it, it seems, it just doesn’t end, and then, at the bottom, a small rectangular box with no label or design on the front. On top of it is a note, folded up and stuck to the side, <em> Read Me </em>scrawled onto the side facing Sam. He frowns, picks it up. </p><p> </p><p>Brady scrambles to try and read it at first, but he eventually lets up and just bounces excitedly, popping the bubble wrap in errant clusters. With Brady temporarily occupied, Sam opens the note and begins to read. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Dearest Samuel, </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Oh fuck. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> I know you can’t have possibly assumed I was done with you so soon. I like you, Winchester, a lot more than any other human I’ve seen visit Hell, and I intend to convince you to return whenever you feel is best. No pressure, just making the offer to you first.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh, and I’ve left you a little something. Don’t worry, it’s made of Hell-magic, so there are no limitations to what you can do with it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I imagine you will.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cheers, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sam  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S. You kept calling me Not-Sam in your thoughts? Very confusing, but I suppose you win some and you lose some, or however you kids say it these days.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Sam’s been done reading the letter minutes ago. He’s just staring at it now, half disbelief that Not-Sam -- there’s no way he’s changing that nickname now, sorry man -- actually managed to deliver a parcel from goddamn <em>Hell</em>, and half terror that Brady’s going to see something demonic and disown him right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Open it!” There goes that. He can’t refuse without seeming suspicious, so he just takes a deep breath and peels the tape off. </p><p> </p><p>He should’ve guessed it by the shape of the box, really. It’s almost comedic timing that Sam pulls it out the exact moment his brain connects the dots, but by then it’s too late and he and Brady are staring at the dildo of the biggest dick Sam Winchester has ever seen (and fucked, but he supposes that little piece of information is just digging into his already dug out grave). </p><p> </p><p>Brady doesn’t speak for a long time. Sam is ready for anger, for annoyance, for fucking <em> anything </em> as long as Brady gets upset and leaves him permanently, but Brady shocks him. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> laughs</em>. Fucking cackles like this is the funniest joke he’s ever heard, like this dildo Sam’s holding is the epitome of comedy, and Sam’s really not sure whether to hug him or clock him. </p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Brady snorts, and it looks like he’s wiping away goddamn <em> tears </em> from his eyes. “I think this is the universe’s way of telling you to get fucked.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam knows that if he laughs, he’s gonna get caught. So, he groans and plays the part of the annoyed best friend, sporting a bitchface so strong that even Dean would’ve stopped and demanded he cut it out. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, okay,” Brady placates quickly, calming himself down. “I’m cool, man, I’m cool.” He’s <em> not </em> cool, not by a long shot, but he’s not leaving and Sam doesn’t expect the weird twist in his belly at the realization. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go put this away, and then we can go get breakfast. Deal?” Brady softens, letting the bubble wrap fall to the floor as he rises from the couch. Before Sam can walk away, Brady grabs his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“I know I tease you, but you <em> do </em> know I’m okay with it, right?” he asks, a little nervous, but he looks sincere, too. “Whoever you love, whoever you fuck, it doesn’t matter to me.” Sam stands still, a little winded, but he finds a wobbly smile and puts it on. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he says warmly. “I know.” Brady relaxes and shifts back to his usual sprightly self, patting Sam’s shoulder as he steps through the door. </p><p> </p><p>“See ya, Sam!” Sam grins and says it back. And then he’s alone, with himself and the empty box and the giant fucking dildo that looks <em> exactly </em> like Not-Sam’s dick. </p><p> </p><p>“Fucking idiot,” he grumbles as he enters his bedroom, and he’s not sure if that’s directed at Not-Sam or himself. But his head is still pounding with a headache from last night’s drinking, and his ass aches from, well, last night’s <em> fucking</em>, so Sam’s pretty sure he’s allowed to complain a little. </p><p> </p><p>He deposits the dildo onto his bed, tossing the note on his desk, and that’s when he spots it. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a smaller note taped right to the base of the dildo, with a small message scribbled on it that has Sam flushing to the tips of his toes. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> To: Samuel </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> So you can have your Christmas wish with you everyday. Yes, the </em> entire <em> wish. No, it can’t run out.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You’re welcome. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cheers, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sam x </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Oh yeah, if <em>that's</em> the case, Not-Sam's gonna have to send him a new one of these before the year even ends, Sam can tell you that much. He's never been more certain about what to wish for next year. Or, more specifically, <em> who </em> to wish for next year. </p><p> </p><p>Now the question is, will Santa let him stay on the nice list long enough for round two?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>.</p>
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